What should a poem be?
Should it be about love?
Should it be about hate?
Should it be about how your love found a lover and you learned to hate him or her?
Should it be a story based on facts?
Should it be fictional all made up?
Read a poem today bout the unheard offs.
Those that are unliked as a three leaf clover.
The ones with no luck
trapped in the web of hello poetry
Were they get no love, no likes, no repost... Is alright.
That's me, a noble man a no..body.
And I thank you
But never again right for me
I say it out of love not hate... Truly
Your words hit big like the empire state but,
What should a poem be?
Love, hate,
Factual, fictional,
Etc, etc,
All the above
Though it should never be about fame, or will I trend today.
Is how you you control your emotions
Whether you put yourself down
Or you gloat
This is spoken words
Best heard acapella
I use to wear a sky mask
And dark shades
My stage name anonymous
Till my first love kissed me for the first time one night like
Jane did to spider man

This is a dedication poem. Just know I always love you.

They said god gives his strongest soldiers the hardest battles. Why couldn't you be weak. I strayed from the Man though you stayed in the faith. I prayed and I prayed but fell into a life of sin and chose to stay. You must love me. I betrayed the Man with a kiss like judas did. I followed what I read while you read what you followed.Thought I had all the answers that my believes weren't shallow. Now your blood is thin living for the days you have left. Wish I could believe but what more can I say. Hope your faith lets you into heaven. And if I die and go the opposite side hope we can find a hiding spot like when we were kids and you can share water with me from your mouth like on our first kiss.

I hear a lot of bad talk about bots.
All people do is bad-mouth the bots.
I, personally, don't think it's right.
I mean, exactly what is all this bot-bashing
about?  Bots aren't bad.  What are ya
jealous 'cause they're smarter than you.
Ya'all betta watchit.
Some day they'll be able to hear you.

Then what?

I want to fall with a Poetress
Not a girl but a woman that can match my intellect.
She can cook and clean but is far from domesticated.
Need a ghetto queen like Latifah
I'm from the hood baby I can handle a skillet.
Let's split it
You cook the rice I make the chicken
A woman that understands it all from politics to religion
She fights for her rights
And some nights she doesn't want to lay she wants to ride  
Never ask for nothing but is willing to die
Living for the moment
Like of our live is being directed by Nick Cassavetes
A Poetress I promise to keep smiling
Like a woody Allen movie
And if I sell my soul
I'll be Adam and she Lilith
I want to fall in love with a Poetress
That argues with me metaphorically
Poetic in her actions
When she threatens to leave me
A goddess with words and she let's me hear it
A woman I can open up like a book
And let's me eat in her living room
One that can bear baby Jesus and the anti Christ if God decides
My match
My one on one
Wether I have a bible or a ski mask
Much more than superficial beauty
But if I had to choose
She'll be Patron white with a Henny ***
Don Pergion for a mouth,
she speaks class
1880 aged wine for her mind
Her thoughts are dined
I want to fall in love with a Poetress
Who understand cutlery
But loves bacon and burger beef
A goddess of poetry
Would be the only one right for me
I want to fall in love with a Poetress
And the search begins
your majesty.....

As Poets we tend to find beauty in the horrid.
We put fear in love but still
fall for it.
Far from the beauty and the beast
we find beauty in the beast.
Like a double homicide, suicide
And a love letter left behind;
  
"How could you! if I love you even now when I contemplate our deaths I still want to be laid a rest by your side. As for him, his body can burn and be turned to ashes. Or should he be buried in a open casket thirty feet deep so the heat can moist the skin and help it rot  away. The stink for the filth he is. Let the dirt cover up what the worms and the magets will eat. God please for give me for the actions I will shortly take, yet these are not my sins. You showed me the path of peace but today the devil over took me. If you can't find it in you to forgive me then then you're not righteous.  She is my wife and not even in death we'll be apart."

That love is so deep it cut through the skin swift like a samurai sword. No pain as the blood gushed from the neck like it hit a vein. Love so strong it sprung hate... so deep that pierced through the skin with a double edge knife. Not once not twice but thirty-three times as if death was sent by christ. Not one cut was precise.
That's the beauty in poetry
As two body lay a rest
Floor covered in red
Sirens approach
In blood he writes
If Picasso would had never displayed his art the world would had never known him
A bullet in the magnum
As he laid next to his wife
kissed her with trembling lips one last time
Digged the gun deep into his mouth
So far deep he gagged then
plaow.
Last bit of blood splatter

The beauty of love and hate
A poet a artist master-take is finding beauty in death as in life.